New York Times vol. 7 no. 1873

ARDINE;
OR,
THE AVENGER OF WRONG,
A TALE OF MORMONISM IN NEW-YORK AND THE FAR WEST,
BY A FUGITIVE FROM UTAH.
CHAPTER I.
THE VICTIM OF THE LYNCHERS.
"Mercy!"
"Death to heretics!"
The scene was that of twilight shadows, settling over the placers of Utah, within sight of that Babylon of the West, Salt Lake City. A man knelt in the presence of six others, and, with uplifted hands, pleaded for his life. His countenance was expressive more of surprise than fear, and presented a handsome appearance, tinged, as it was, with the pallor of dread. The six men who stood by were rudely clad, and their features were of that rough, swarthy mould, which denotes the callous and desperate villain.
They were standing amid a clump of trees, which stood alone upon the plain, over the stoutest branch of one of which was suspended a stout rope, the end doubled into a noose or loop.
"Mercy!" again gasped the kneeling man, in a tone of supplication.
"You plead in vain," said one, who seemed to be the ringleader." It is the prophet's command that we hang you to the nearest tree."
"What!" cried the man, springing to his feet, and cast-ing upon them a look of scorn; "are you men, and dare you do this? The false-hearted prophet banished me from your city; for this I did not care, for it was my desire to flee it and its contaminating pestilence; but now you tell me that his orders were to hang me! And for what of-fence?”
"Apostacy!" replied the leader in a rude tone.
"Apostacy!" cried the victim. "Did I deserve hang-ing when I deserted the religion of my fathers—the reli-gion of the Bible—and clung to yours? And now, when my eyes are opened, and I see the base hypocrisy and corruption of your fanaticism, and throw off its shackles, why do you assassinate me ?"
"Don't listen to him. Cloton," said one, addressing the leader. "If we were to let the rascal go, he would soon be in the States, telling all sorts of stories about us!"
"You are right, Staunton," said the leader. "Ardine, you mast die. "
“I talk to stone," said the unlucky victim; but grant me one request."
"What is it?" asked Cloton, the leader.
"Permit me to write a farewell line to my sister—one of Pratt's wives."
"Well, you can do that; we will give you five minutes time," said the leader, stepping back.
The victim took a piece of paper from his pocket, and, with a pencil, wrote a few hasty lines thereon; then, fold-ing it carefully, turned to the party and said:
"Which of you will promise, sacredly, to give this to my sister?"
"I will," said a tall, brawny man, with some touch of humor in his face, and stepping boldly forward he took the letter.
“Thanks! And now, Sirs, if you are determined to hang me up here like a dog, I will die like a man. Come! I am ready!"
There was a tone of determined resolution in his man-ner that seemed to cast a spell over the bravado of the lynchers. They proceeded to tie his arms in silence, and then adjusted the rope round his neck.
"Death to all heretics and apostates!” shouted the leader.
"Death to all apostates!" echoed one and all. And, as though this was the signal, two men gave a sudden pul of the other end of the rope, and Ardine was dangling between earth and heaven.
The rope was speedily fastened around the tree, and having made all secure, the men stood for a second, gaz-ing upon their victim.
"Come! to horse!" suddenly cried their leader. "Back to the holy city!"
Each man vaulted into his saddle, and, a moment after, six horsemen were galloping over the plain toward Salt Lake, the dome of whose synagogue was just visible above the horizon, darkening in the twilight shadows.
CHAPTER II.
THE RESCUE.
The dust had not yet settled in the wake of the six lynchers, when a lone traveler entered the clump of trees in which hung the body of Ardine, His appearance was that of a rough westerner, who had traveled far, and be-come reckless of his dress and personelle as well as the manner of his gait. His features were rough and swarthy, and his frame tall, bony and athletic. He seemed to have happened there by chance, and without an object.
The traveler's eye, however, soon fell upon the body of Ardine, and he started.
"Death and the devil!" he exclaimed; "here's been some pesky work! Why, there must have been some of the old Illinois Regulators out here. But let's see? If I'm any judge o' human nater, that man don't look as if he ought to have been hung. I'll cut him down at any rate." And se saying, the stalwart traveler caught the body round the waist with his left arm, and, with the other, he drew a long knife from his belt and cut the rope.
Removing the clothing from the breast, he felt about the heart, and put his ear to it, and then, as a gleam of satis-faction sparkled in his eye, he drew from his pocket a small canteen of brandy, and began to wash the swollen sinews of the throat, putting a little on the lips and nos-trils. A few moments passed before any signs of life were manifest, when a gurgling sound was heard in the throat, and a slight convulsion apparent in the chest.
"Man or devil, good or bad, I'll do my best to bring you back to life, old feller!" said the traveler, rubbing the neck and body more vigorously than ever.
Presently the man opened his eyes in a fixed stare, for a moment, when his lips began to move. Then his hand raised intuitively to his bruised neck—the face began to take expression, and the entire body to manifest return-ing life.
"Take a sip of this; it'll do you good," said the trav-eler, lifting his head on one arm, and presenting him the canteen of brandy.
The reviving man grasped the canteen to his lips, and, though swallowing with difficulty, succeeded in drinking a considerable quantity. Its influence was effective, and Ardine soon sat upright, and, after a little, began to show signs of reason and speech.
"Well, old feller, I rather think you must have begun to smell brimstone that time ! But what the deuce were you strung up there for? Can't you tell a feller?" said the droll traveler.
After several efforts, Ardine succeeded in gaining the power of speech.
"I can scarce tell you now, my friend," he replied, in broken, gasping sentences. "I was hung by a lot of Mormons, simply because I became convinced of the cor-ruption and hypocrisy of the church, and wished to leave it."
"Is that all ?" cried the stranger. "Blast their Miller-ised hearts! I just wish our party was big enough, I'd knock the whole city into a second Nauvoo."
"But who, my friend, are you? And how came you hither so opportunely?" asked Ardine.
"Well, to answer both question at once," replied the traveler, "I'm Josh Stratum, from the State of Illinoy, and belong to a party of Californy emigrants, now en-camped about half a mile across the plain. After pitchin' my tent, as some of 'em said we were in sight of Salt Lake City, I thought I'd walk across and take a view of it by moonlight. I was passin' through this little strip; saw you, cut you down, and now you know all about it."
"And how can I thank you for you kindness, my friend?" said Ardine feelingly.
"By not mentioning it," said the emigrant, good-naturedly. "But come, can you walk? You don't want to go back among the Mormons again, I guess, so come with me over to the camp, and we will see what can be done for you."
Ardine rose to his feet, and turning his gaze towards the city, from which he had been banished, his brow darkened as he exclaimed:
"Farewell! thou putrid hot-bed of licentious wanton ness! Thou Babylon of the present! Belshazzar revel within thy wails, but the day is not far distant when thy doom shall be seen as the hand-writing on the wall! Farewell, false Prophet and thy satellites! But beware, for Lemuel Ardine still lives!”
A brief walk brought the twain to the camp of the emi-grants, some hundred or more in number.
A few words from Stratum, Spoken in his peculiar way, at once won for Ardine the sympathies of the entire party; and, after discussing as good a supper as could well be gotten up under the circumstances, he told his story, as follows:
"I was born in a small village in the State of Connecti-cut. My parents both died when myself and two sisters were still young. and we were left pretty much to take care of ourselves as best we could. We grew up under the patronage of different relations, each receiving a moderate schooling, except my youngest sister, who, from her beauty and amiability, being the favorite of a wealthy aunt, received a polished education.
About eighteen months ago there came to the village, under the patronage of two or three families, a Mormon elder, who preached his doctrines boldly, and with such a show of sincerity, that many who were induced to listen to him at last embraced the faith, my eldest sister and myself among the number.
Through frequent persuasions, and the most flattering inducements, I wasted to sacrifice the considerable pro-erty I had amassed since the attainment of my majority, and remove to Utah. Attended by my sister, the elder, and several other families, we joined a party of emigrants in New-York, and arrived here about a year ago.
I soon found not only that all I possessed was passing into the hands and power of the church—which simply means the private coffers of the Prophet and elders—but that, as a people, they were given to the grossest licen-tiousness and mercenary enjoyment. My sister, soon after our arrival, was sealed to the elder who had brought us here, and who already had six wives.
I at last became thoroughly disgusted with all around me, and have recently declared it boldly. To-day the Prophet banished me from the city, in company with six ruffians, whose private orders were to hang me to the nearest tree. They had but too well accomplished his or-ders, had not Mr. Stratum come upon me accidentally and cut me down.
"I am helpless now," he said, "and will bend my steps towards the El Dorado, where I may find gold to help me wreak my vengeance on this city. Then let the murder-ing crew beware!"
CHAPTER III.
THE VISIT TO THE DEAD.
In a sumptuous apartment in one of the most gorgeous mansions of Salt Lake City, sat a young lady of apparent-ly 20 years of age, arrayed in a loose wrapper of purple hue, which harmonized brilliantly with her healthful complexion and well-developed features, while it gave double attraction to the exquisite contour of her perfect form. Her countenance was mild placid, her eyes and mouth only manifesting the emotion that moved her. Her dark hair was modestly confined by a small bandeau, while the richest of bosoms just peeped out from the pur-ple frame-work of the dress, which was turned back from the arching neck.
She held in her hand a light piece of needlework, but it lay listlessly in her lap, and her dark eyes, peering through the long pendant lashes with something of a sad gleam, were fixed abstractedly upon the carpet. Such was Linda Ardine, whose brother we have seen brutally hung upon a tree. She is in the mansion of Elder Pratt—his sealed mistress.
"So they have driven my brother from the city, at last," she murmured, sadly. "I feared his indiscretion would lead to this! And now I am here alone! I know not why it is, but I dread this event. I felt secure and content while he was here; but now that he is gone, a fear comes stealing over my heart that all is not right. But where can Parley stay?"
She was about rising from her seat, when a rap was heard at the door. It was a messenger with a letter. She recognized the superscription in pencil. It was Lemuel's —her brother's! She tore it open and read as follows:
"DEAR LINDA—I have been deceived—betrayed! My doom was not only banishment but death! The men who were sent to accompany me out of the city were secretly instructed to hang me! In a few moments more I shall die, sister—die by the orders of that arch fiend, Brigham Young, whom you persist in calling Prophet! O, sister, fly the city! Go back to our lovely valley of Connecticut, and live a virtuous life. Farewell! my executioners are waiting. Your brother, LEMUEL ARDINE. "Good heavens!" exclaimed, with livid lips, the beau-tiful girl, as she tottered to the divan, and buried her face in her hands. " Can this be possible! I can scarce be-lieve my eyes! And yet it is his hand-writing—his signa-ture. By heavens! if it be, and I gain one clue to the murderers, they will find one Ardine left, that will prove more terrible than he!"
She rose to her feet in an attitude of stern resolution, and stood, for a moment, as though contemplating some daring scheme. Then touching the bell upon the table, she waited but a second for an answer. A servant en-tered.
"James, saddle the Mustang colt, which the Elder bought for me yesterday, and lead him, by alley-ways, to the eastern part of the city. Wait there for me, and be silent. You understand," raising her finger signifi-cantly.
"Yes, madam." The servant bowed himself out.
"They could not have gone far to do the deed," she ex-claimed quickly, "for they have not had time. I will go to the east grove first—he shall have decent burial, in spite of the Prophet. Now for my disguise!" And, with an excited step, she left the room.
Half an hour after, the servant we have seen enter the parlor, paused by the road side, on the suburbs of the city, holding by the rein a black horse, of that fleet species known as the Mustang breed. The animal arched its glossy neck, and shook his luxuriant mane impatiently, as though weary of the slow pace in which he had been brought to the spot. A moment after, a woman, closely veiled, and dressed in a black riding-dress, appeared upon the ground.
"If they ask for me at the house," she said, addressing the servant, "you can tell them I have ventured on a short evening ride to try the pony."
"Yes, madam," replied the servant.
Then approaching the noble horse, she patted him gen-tly on the neck, until he looked around, and his fierce eyes seemed to subdue into womanly gentleness.
"Now, Montezuma! for a quick race!" she Cried, as with true New-England style she vaulted, unassisted, into the saddle.
The horse, apparently understanding his words, scarcely waited for her to arrange her stirrup, but dashed out on the road, and over the plains, like a flying cloud swept by a hurricane!
The moon had just risen above the horizon, like a far-off burning world, and its red glaring human face seemed to be gazing with wonder upon the flying horse and its veiled rider, as they swept like dark messengers of a coming plague.
Not many minutes elapsed—scarce a quarter of an hour—before Linda Ardine reined in her fiery steed with-in the clump of trees known as the Eastern Grove, and gazed wildly around to see the swinging form of her mur-dered brother. But he was not to be seen. Spurring her horse from tree to tree, she gazed with dilated eyes and heaving bosom, but could catch no glimpse of his body. Her heart began to sink within, for fear that she had taken the wrong track—might never find him—might never see him again, even in death!—when she came sud-denly upon the tree on which Ardine had been hung. Then her emotion found vent in an exclamation of joy. There was the rope swinging in the evening breeze, and on the ground lay the noose which had encircled his neck. They had perhaps failed to tie his hands— to ad-just the rope properly about his neck—and he had been able to sever it and escape! Her heart leapt wildly with joy, for Lemuel Ardine was free!
Then a dark thought came, like a cloud, over her mind, and dashed aside her hopes. It was the probability that her brother's executioners had not only hung, but buried him! There was a plausibility in this thought, for it would not be policy to leave his body hang there, as food for the vulture, and an object of horror to every passer-by. Linda grew pale and tremulous as this thought caught her mind. She rode over the entire ground, and round and round the grave, peering into every shadow, in search of her brother's grave. But her search was vain, and, disappointed and dejected, she was about to turn her horse's head homeward, when her eye caught sight of the camp-fires of the emigrant party to the southward.
Fired with a new hope, she applied the spur to her spirited steed, and dashed away toward the camp. Joy, fond heart! The first her eye detected amid the group was he—her brother!—saved from the terrible death to which he had been consigned! Throwing herself from her horse, she rushed into his arms, exciaiming:
"Lemuel! Brother! Thank God you are not dead!"
"Sister! Can it be? And have you left these Mormon miscreants, to fly with me back to our native land?" cried Ardine, as he clasped her to his breast.
"No—no, not that!" said Linda, hesitatingly, "but I feared that you were dead—unburied, perhaps—and—"
"And that I am not, is no fault of those who were sent to lynch me."
"And how did you escape?" asked Linda, anxiously.
Ardine proceeded to narrate the manner of his release by the emigrant.
"I bless him in my heart." said Linda, when he had concluded; "but whither go you now, brother?''
"These friends have requested me to go with them to California. You will accompany us, and—"
Linda turned away, and, with a bound, leapt into her saddle.
"No, brother!" she cried, "now that you are safe, I am satisfied. But, brother—I am still a Mormon!"
Ardine sprang forward, and grasped at the horse's reins, but the animal darted aside, and he missed his hold.
"Farewell! brother!" cried the infatuated girl, "may God bless you on your journey to the Eldorado! As for me—I return to the Holy City!" And she spurred her horse for the return.
"Then may a brother's curse and a brother's misery rest forever on your soul, and blight every hour of your life!" cried Ardine, in a tone of fearful rage.
The girl cast one look backward. The moon fell upon her blanched check, as she heard the curse, and then, as if prompted by desperation, she dashed away over the plain, and was soon out of sight!
CHAPTER IV.
A PROPHET'S VISION.
We will not follow the unhappy Ardine through his long and perilous march across the Desert, nor portray the many heart pangs he felt, as he thought of wandering still further from the home of his childhood and from those upon whom he now only lived to hurl his avenging wrath. Another scene demands our attention.
Let us enter this splendid mansion of brown stone, just fronting the Temple. It is not less gaudy and grand than some of those which adorn the Fifth Avenue in New-York, and is far more unique in its architectural designs. Let us enter the Home of the Prophet!
We will not now pass through the gorgeous drawing-rooms, furnished with Oriental magnificence, nor peer into the private apartments, fitted up, and adorned with sumptuous and voluptuous splendor. The room we enter is the library, or business apartment of the Prophet. He furniture consists of a few easy chairs, a couple of lounges or divans, with a centre-table, besides a book-case, con-taining the writings of Jos. Miller, Lives of the Elders, and his own MSS. The walls were ornamented with por traits of the prominent men among the Latter Day Saints and maps of every country on the globe. Such was the library of the Governor and Prophet of Utah.
Seated in one of the arm-chairs, near the window, intently engaged in reading a newspaper, which was evidently from the States, was a man of middle age, with a keen, black eye, and prominent features, a fore-head, narrow and high, and covered with a sparsity of hair.
"Curse the Administration!" he exclaimed, suddenly throwing down the paper, "but Brother Brigham will be a match for them!"
"For whom?" said a voice near by.
The man looked up, and beheld standing in the door-way another of about his own age, of a solemn but shrewd aspect, and an eye of keen, piercing brightness. His forehead was broader and more evenly developed, and his hair was beginning to be mingled with gray.
"Good evening. Brother Brigham, most worthy leader of our Church!" said the man reverently.
"Our welcome, Elder Pratt," said the Pro-member, "showing me, yesterday, the miniature of a beautiful girl, the sister of your last wife, Linda Ardine."
"Yes, she is truly a beautiful creature; I saw her once in New-York, where she resides with her aunt," replied the elder, rather earnestly.
"You remember, also, Brother Pratt, that, although I greatly admired Linda myself, yet I gave her up to you, at your request."
"I remember it well, and you gave me a jewel," replied the Elder, obsequiously.
"You remember, also, that at your request, I, three days ago. exiled her brother from the city, and had him hanged, for fear, having turned apostate, he might also influence his sister!"
"You were very kind," replied the Elder, in a tone of thankful humility.
Meanwhile, the keen eyes of the Prophet were fixed upon his satellite with a magnetic expression of subtle power. His face assumed a half-smiling appearance, and the frig-idity of his manners softened into urbanity.
"I had a vision, last night, Brother Pratt, in which this beautiful girl, with a pure soul, came to me, and the voice of the Lord said to me, 'Take her, Brigham, Ser-vant of the Most High! She is thy helpmate!' Elder, it is Heaven's decree that Leonora Ardine should be my—wife!"
The Elder paused for a moment, and then said, hesitat-ingly:
"I fear it will be difficult to accomplish, Brother Young, as the girl has a great antipathy against our faith."
"But she MUST be mine, Elder!" said the Prophet, in an emphatic, hissing tone.
The Elder again seemed perplexed for a moment, before he replied.
"Our agents in New-York might accomplish it," he said.
"There must be another agent," said Brigham, subtly.
"Who?"
"Your wife—her sister!"
"But how?"
"If I mistake not, you informed me that Linda and her brother had not been estranged from that sister, on ac-count of their adherence to our faith—they still corres-pond at intervals ?"
"Yes."
"The brother is dead. and cannot return to tell her any evil of our city. I would have Linda word her letters in glowing descriptions of our place and condition; the sumptuousness of our living, and the happiness we enjoy. Fire her ambition and curiosity with the enthusiasm and beauty of our religion, request her to attend the meetings of our brethren in the East, and offer her a friendly hospi-tality here. By these combined means, she will soon be in our power, and once in our power, my wife."
"I will use my influence with Linda, to induce her to do it," said the Elder, meekly.
"She MUST do it!" again exclaimed Brigham, in his peculiarly emphatic tone. "The Prophet wills it, and the Council of Twelve grant it."
"Be it so," replied the Elder, "I will see her at once."
"Tis well," said the Prophet, seating himself at the ta-ble. as the Elder took his leave.
Three days had passed since the events of the three first chapters had occurred, and Linda, the sealed wife of Parley Pratt, was still sad and dejected. Her brother's curse seemed to linger in her ears and haunt her heart. She felt a dark presentment that the current of her hith-erto peaceful life was about to change, and often gave her-self up to dark and moody reflections. She had hitherto been treated with the utmost kindness by the Elder, and all by whom she was surrounded. Her husband seemed to be proud of her beauty, and spent much of his time in her company, and the poor girl was happy in her infatua-tion. But now that her brother was gone, she felt lonely and sad, and was often given to despondency.
It was during one of these moods, in which the Elder found her in her private apatment, on returning from his visit to the Prophet. She rose to meet him, and, resting her hands on his shoulder, lifted her dark, sad eyes to his, as she said:
"Parley, why is it that you stay so long away from my side? The time was when you would not leave me for an hour, and now I am blessed when I see you once a day!"
"The cares of the church, my dear," began the Elder, in a soothing tone.
"Hold!" said Linda, interrupting him. "The church has no more cares now than when you first sealed me to your heart; but I fear, my dear Parley, that some other care engrosses your mind. You know that I never object to the privileges of those who join with me in calling you husband. I have never been jealous of any of my sisters—your other wives. But I fear, dear Parley, that some other beauty is stealing in upon your heart, which you have told me was all mine!"
"And so it is, my sweet," said the oily tongued Elder, embracing her; " but the political relations of our territo-ry with the States is becoming perplexing and trouble-some. The President is about to send a new Governor here, and the policy of our church is being violently dis-cussed in the East. I have just come from a long confer-ence with the Prophet upon this subject. But—there was something else spoken of. Linda. Which concerns you."
"What was it," asked Linda, curiously.
"I told you, last night, that I had shown the miniature of your sister, Leonore, to the Prophet, and how much he admired it."
"Well?"
"He said that she appeared to him, last night, in a dream, and the voice of the Lord commanded him to take her to himself."
"My sister!" exclaimed Linda, startled at the thought, and fixing a vacant stare in the Elder's face.
"Yes, it is a pity, my dear, that so sweet a girl should continue among heretics," said, the Elder, shrewdly.
"My sister!” repeated Linda, abstractedly.
"Remember. Linda, that the will of the Lord, as mani-fested through the Prophet, should be implicitly obeyed."
"And does Brigham want more victims of my family? Am not I left to bear his wrath, and is not that enough? Is he not satisfied with my brother's blood?"
"Your brother’s blood?” echoed the Elder, starting back in surprise; "your brother was not murdered: he was banished."
"Not so; do not try to deceive me, Parley, for you can-not. My brother was publicly banished, but the private in-structions of his escort were that he should be lynched—hanged! That was his fate!"
The Elder looked with astonishment upon the beautiful girl for the lapse of a few moments, as though he read the secret of her soul.
"How do you know this?" he asked, with a low, stern voice.
Linda hesitated for a moment, for fear of betraying her-self, and then said, evasively:
"Murderers sometimes have false lips!"
The Elder seemed satisfied, and went on to detail the in-structions given him by Brigham, as to the manner in which they were to gain possession of Leonore.
"And am I then to be the instrument of alluring my sister in the Prophet’s toils, and place her in the arms of her brother's murderer?" exclaimed Linda, in a voice of agony.
"Will she not be happier here than yonder among those mercenary heretics! Remember, my dearly be-loved, that there is another life to look to; should she die out of our faith, what would be her fate in the future world? The joy of this—the hope of the future—the dread hereafter—all rest upon her decision in this matter. Were she sick, would you not minister to her? Were she poor, and in distress, would you not give her your as-sistance? And now that she is in the bonds of sin and darkness, groveling amid the mercenary and heartless world, will you not stretch forth your hand to lead her into light and blessedness? You believe ours to be the true church—then her's is wrong, and she will be lost! The Lord has given her to Brigham; will you not do the work of the Lord?"
"I will! I will!" gasped the young enthusiast. Who stood with dilated eyes and lips apart listening to the eloquence of the fanatic, with all the abstraction of her soul.
"But a little time—give me time to think."
"You are a true saint, sweet love!" said the Elder drawing her tenderly to his breast, his eyes twinkling with gratification, " and are the dearest idol of my heart on earth!"
"Oh, is that so, Parley!" cried she, clasping his neck in a fervent embrace.
"It is my love! Do you not trust me?"
"I do! I do! But will it be ever thus?"
"While life remains," said he, fervently.
The young girl pressed her kisses on his sensual lips with the enthusiasm of a lost soul.
This startling romance will be continued, from where it leaves off here, in the New-York Mercury for this week, which will be ready at all the news depots early to-morrow morning. The Mercury is the largest and most beautiful four cent paper in the world, and pays more for literary talent than any other weekly journal published. Although the Mercury is sold by every newsvender in America, those who prefer, can have it mailed to any address, one year for $2, or six months for $1, payable in advance. No subscriptions received for less than six months. Secure the Mercury early to-morrow morning to avoid disappointment.

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ARDINE;
OR,
THE AVENGER OF WRONG,
A TALE OF MORMONISM IN NEW-YORK AND THE FAR WEST,
BY A FUGITIVE FROM UTAH.
CHAPTER I.
THE VICTIM OF THE LYNCHERS.
"Mercy!"
"Death to heretics!"
The scene was that of twilight shadows, settling over the placers of Utah, within sight of that Babylon of the West, Salt Lake City. A man knelt in the presence of six others, and, with uplifted hands, pleaded for his life. His countenance was expressive more of surprise than fear, and presented a handsome appearance, tinged, as it was, with the pallor of dread. The six men who stood by were rudely clad, and their features were of that rough, swarthy mould, which denotes the callous and desperate villain.
They were standing amid a clump of trees, which stood alone upon the plain, over the stoutest branch of one of which was suspended a stout rope, the end doubled into a noose or loop.
"Mercy!" again gasped the kneeling man, in a tone of supplication.
"You plead in vain," said one, who seemed to be the ringleader." It is the prophet's command that we hang you to the nearest tree."
"What!" cried the man, springing to his feet, and cast-ing upon them a look of scorn; "are you men, and dare you do this? The false-hearted prophet banished me from your city; for this I did not care, for it was my desire to flee it and its contaminating pestilence; but now you tell me that his orders were to hang me! And for what of-fence?”
"Apostacy!" replied the leader in a rude tone.
"Apostacy!" cried the victim. "Did I deserve hang-ing when I deserted the religion of my fathers—the reli-gion of the Bible—and clung to yours? And now, when my eyes are opened, and I see the base hypocrisy and corruption of your fanaticism, and throw off its shackles, why do you assassinate me ?"
"Don't listen to him. Cloton," said one, addressing the leader. "If we were to let the rascal go, he would soon be in the States, telling all sorts of stories about us!"
"You are right, Staunton," said the leader. "Ardine, you mast die. "
“I talk to stone," said the unlucky victim; but grant me one request."
"What is it?" asked Cloton, the leader.
"Permit me to write a farewell line to my sister—one of Pratt's wives."
"Well, you can do that; we will give you five minutes time," said the leader, stepping back.
The victim took a piece of paper from his pocket, and, with a pencil, wrote a few hasty lines thereon; then, fold-ing it carefully, turned to the party and said:
"Which of you will promise, sacredly, to give this to my sister?"
"I will," said a tall, brawny man, with some touch of humor in his face, and stepping boldly forward he took the letter.
“Thanks! And now, Sirs, if you are determined to hang me up here like a dog, I will die like a man. Come! I am ready!"
There was a tone of determined resolution in his man-ner that seemed to cast a spell over the bravado of the lynchers. They proceeded to tie his arms in silence, and then adjusted the rope round his neck.
"Death to all heretics and apostates!” shouted the leader.
"Death to all apostates!" echoed one and all. And, as though this was the signal, two men gave a sudden pul of the other end of the rope, and Ardine was dangling between earth and heaven.
The rope was speedily fastened around the tree, and having made all secure, the men stood for a second, gaz-ing upon their victim.
"Come! to horse!" suddenly cried their leader. "Back to the holy city!"
Each man vaulted into his saddle, and, a moment after, six horsemen were galloping over the plain toward Salt Lake, the dome of whose synagogue was just visible above the horizon, darkening in the twilight shadows.
CHAPTER II.
THE RESCUE.
The dust had not yet settled in the wake of the six lynchers, when a lone traveler entered the clump of trees in which hung the body of Ardine, His appearance was that of a rough westerner, who had traveled far, and be-come reckless of his dress and personelle as well as the manner of his gait. His features were rough and swarthy, and his frame tall, bony and athletic. He seemed to have happened there by chance, and without an object.
The traveler's eye, however, soon fell upon the body of Ardine, and he started.
"Death and the devil!" he exclaimed; "here's been some pesky work! Why, there must have been some of the old Illinois Regulators out here. But let's see? If I'm any judge o' human nater, that man don't look as if he ought to have been hung. I'll cut him down at any rate." And se saying, the stalwart traveler caught the body round the waist with his left arm, and, with the other, he drew a long knife from his belt and cut the rope.
Removing the clothing from the breast, he felt about the heart, and put his ear to it, and then, as a gleam of satis-faction sparkled in his eye, he drew from his pocket a small canteen of brandy, and began to wash the swollen sinews of the throat, putting a little on the lips and nos-trils. A few moments passed before any signs of life were manifest, when a gurgling sound was heard in the throat, and a slight convulsion apparent in the chest.
"Man or devil, good or bad, I'll do my best to bring you back to life, old feller!" said the traveler, rubbing the neck and body more vigorously than ever.
Presently the man opened his eyes in a fixed stare, for a moment, when his lips began to move. Then his hand raised intuitively to his bruised neck—the face began to take expression, and the entire body to manifest return-ing life.
"Take a sip of this; it'll do you good," said the trav-eler, lifting his head on one arm, and presenting him the canteen of brandy.
The reviving man grasped the canteen to his lips, and, though swallowing with difficulty, succeeded in drinking a considerable quantity. Its influence was effective, and Ardine soon sat upright, and, after a little, began to show signs of reason and speech.
"Well, old feller, I rather think you must have begun to smell brimstone that time ! But what the deuce were you strung up there for? Can't you tell a feller?" said the droll traveler.
After several efforts, Ardine succeeded in gaining the power of speech.
"I can scarce tell you now, my friend," he replied, in broken, gasping sentences. "I was hung by a lot of Mormons, simply because I became convinced of the cor-ruption and hypocrisy of the church, and wished to leave it."
"Is that all ?" cried the stranger. "Blast their Miller-ised hearts! I just wish our party was big enough, I'd knock the whole city into a second Nauvoo."
"But who, my friend, are you? And how came you hither so opportunely?" asked Ardine.
"Well, to answer both question at once," replied the traveler, "I'm Josh Stratum, from the State of Illinoy, and belong to a party of Californy emigrants, now en-camped about half a mile across the plain. After pitchin' my tent, as some of 'em said we were in sight of Salt Lake City, I thought I'd walk across and take a view of it by moonlight. I was passin' through this little strip; saw you, cut you down, and now you know all about it."
"And how can I thank you for you kindness, my friend?" said Ardine feelingly.
"By not mentioning it," said the emigrant, good-naturedly. "But come, can you walk? You don't want to go back among the Mormons again, I guess, so come with me over to the camp, and we will see what can be done for you."
Ardine rose to his feet, and turning his gaze towards the city, from which he had been banished, his brow darkened as he exclaimed:
"Farewell! thou putrid hot-bed of licentious wanton ness! Thou Babylon of the present! Belshazzar revel within thy wails, but the day is not far distant when thy doom shall be seen as the hand-writing on the wall! Farewell, false Prophet and thy satellites! But beware, for Lemuel Ardine still lives!”
A brief walk brought the twain to the camp of the emi-grants, some hundred or more in number.
A few words from Stratum, Spoken in his peculiar way, at once won for Ardine the sympathies of the entire party; and, after discussing as good a supper as could well be gotten up under the circumstances, he told his story, as follows:
"I was born in a small village in the State of Connecti-cut. My parents both died when myself and two sisters were still young. and we were left pretty much to take care of ourselves as best we could. We grew up under the patronage of different relations, each receiving a moderate schooling, except my youngest sister, who, from her beauty and amiability, being the favorite of a wealthy aunt, received a polished education.
About eighteen months ago there came to the village, under the patronage of two or three families, a Mormon elder, who preached his doctrines boldly, and with such a show of sincerity, that many who were induced to listen to him at last embraced the faith, my eldest sister and myself among the number.
Through frequent persuasions, and the most flattering inducements, I wasted to sacrifice the considerable pro-erty I had amassed since the attainment of my majority, and remove to Utah. Attended by my sister, the elder, and several other families, we joined a party of emigrants in New-York, and arrived here about a year ago.
I soon found not only that all I possessed was passing into the hands and power of the church—which simply means the private coffers of the Prophet and elders—but that, as a people, they were given to the grossest licen-tiousness and mercenary enjoyment. My sister, soon after our arrival, was sealed to the elder who had brought us here, and who already had six wives.
I at last became thoroughly disgusted with all around me, and have recently declared it boldly. To-day the Prophet banished me from the city, in company with six ruffians, whose private orders were to hang me to the nearest tree. They had but too well accomplished his or-ders, had not Mr. Stratum come upon me accidentally and cut me down.
"I am helpless now," he said, "and will bend my steps towards the El Dorado, where I may find gold to help me wreak my vengeance on this city. Then let the murder-ing crew beware!"
CHAPTER III.
THE VISIT TO THE DEAD.
In a sumptuous apartment in one of the most gorgeous mansions of Salt Lake City, sat a young lady of apparent-ly 20 years of age, arrayed in a loose wrapper of purple hue, which harmonized brilliantly with her healthful complexion and well-developed features, while it gave double attraction to the exquisite contour of her perfect form. Her countenance was mild placid, her eyes and mouth only manifesting the emotion that moved her. Her dark hair was modestly confined by a small bandeau, while the richest of bosoms just peeped out from the pur-ple frame-work of the dress, which was turned back from the arching neck.
She held in her hand a light piece of needlework, but it lay listlessly in her lap, and her dark eyes, peering through the long pendant lashes with something of a sad gleam, were fixed abstractedly upon the carpet. Such was Linda Ardine, whose brother we have seen brutally hung upon a tree. She is in the mansion of Elder Pratt—his sealed mistress.
"So they have driven my brother from the city, at last," she murmured, sadly. "I feared his indiscretion would lead to this! And now I am here alone! I know not why it is, but I dread this event. I felt secure and content while he was here; but now that he is gone, a fear comes stealing over my heart that all is not right. But where can Parley stay?"
She was about rising from her seat, when a rap was heard at the door. It was a messenger with a letter. She recognized the superscription in pencil. It was Lemuel's —her brother's! She tore it open and read as follows:
"DEAR LINDA—I have been deceived—betrayed! My doom was not only banishment but death! The men who were sent to accompany me out of the city were secretly instructed to hang me! In a few moments more I shall die, sister—die by the orders of that arch fiend, Brigham Young, whom you persist in calling Prophet! O, sister, fly the city! Go back to our lovely valley of Connecticut, and live a virtuous life. Farewell! my executioners are waiting. Your brother, LEMUEL ARDINE. "Good heavens!" exclaimed, with livid lips, the beau-tiful girl, as she tottered to the divan, and buried her face in her hands. " Can this be possible! I can scarce be-lieve my eyes! And yet it is his hand-writing—his signa-ture. By heavens! if it be, and I gain one clue to the murderers, they will find one Ardine left, that will prove more terrible than he!"
She rose to her feet in an attitude of stern resolution, and stood, for a moment, as though contemplating some daring scheme. Then touching the bell upon the table, she waited but a second for an answer. A servant en-tered.
"James, saddle the Mustang colt, which the Elder bought for me yesterday, and lead him, by alley-ways, to the eastern part of the city. Wait there for me, and be silent. You understand," raising her finger signifi-cantly.
"Yes, madam." The servant bowed himself out.
"They could not have gone far to do the deed," she ex-claimed quickly, "for they have not had time. I will go to the east grove first—he shall have decent burial, in spite of the Prophet. Now for my disguise!" And, with an excited step, she left the room.
Half an hour after, the servant we have seen enter the parlor, paused by the road side, on the suburbs of the city, holding by the rein a black horse, of that fleet species known as the Mustang breed. The animal arched its glossy neck, and shook his luxuriant mane impatiently, as though weary of the slow pace in which he had been brought to the spot. A moment after, a woman, closely veiled, and dressed in a black riding-dress, appeared upon the ground.
"If they ask for me at the house," she said, addressing the servant, "you can tell them I have ventured on a short evening ride to try the pony."
"Yes, madam," replied the servant.
Then approaching the noble horse, she patted him gen-tly on the neck, until he looked around, and his fierce eyes seemed to subdue into womanly gentleness.
"Now, Montezuma! for a quick race!" she Cried, as with true New-England style she vaulted, unassisted, into the saddle.
The horse, apparently understanding his words, scarcely waited for her to arrange her stirrup, but dashed out on the road, and over the plains, like a flying cloud swept by a hurricane!
The moon had just risen above the horizon, like a far-off burning world, and its red glaring human face seemed to be gazing with wonder upon the flying horse and its veiled rider, as they swept like dark messengers of a coming plague.
Not many minutes elapsed—scarce a quarter of an hour—before Linda Ardine reined in her fiery steed with-in the clump of trees known as the Eastern Grove, and gazed wildly around to see the swinging form of her mur-dered brother. But he was not to be seen. Spurring her horse from tree to tree, she gazed with dilated eyes and heaving bosom, but could catch no glimpse of his body. Her heart began to sink within, for fear that she had taken the wrong track—might never find him—might never see him again, even in death!—when she came sud-denly upon the tree on which Ardine had been hung. Then her emotion found vent in an exclamation of joy. There was the rope swinging in the evening breeze, and on the ground lay the noose which had encircled his neck. They had perhaps failed to tie his hands— to ad-just the rope properly about his neck—and he had been able to sever it and escape! Her heart leapt wildly with joy, for Lemuel Ardine was free!
Then a dark thought came, like a cloud, over her mind, and dashed aside her hopes. It was the probability that her brother's executioners had not only hung, but buried him! There was a plausibility in this thought, for it would not be policy to leave his body hang there, as food for the vulture, and an object of horror to every passer-by. Linda grew pale and tremulous as this thought caught her mind. She rode over the entire ground, and round and round the grave, peering into every shadow, in search of her brother's grave. But her search was vain, and, disappointed and dejected, she was about to turn her horse's head homeward, when her eye caught sight of the camp-fires of the emigrant party to the southward.
Fired with a new hope, she applied the spur to her spirited steed, and dashed away toward the camp. Joy, fond heart! The first her eye detected amid the group was he—her brother!—saved from the terrible death to which he had been consigned! Throwing herself from her horse, she rushed into his arms, exciaiming:
"Lemuel! Brother! Thank God you are not dead!"
"Sister! Can it be? And have you left these Mormon miscreants, to fly with me back to our native land?" cried Ardine, as he clasped her to his breast.
"No—no, not that!" said Linda, hesitatingly, "but I feared that you were dead—unburied, perhaps—and—"
"And that I am not, is no fault of those who were sent to lynch me."
"And how did you escape?" asked Linda, anxiously.
Ardine proceeded to narrate the manner of his release by the emigrant.
"I bless him in my heart." said Linda, when he had concluded; "but whither go you now, brother?''
"These friends have requested me to go with them to California. You will accompany us, and—"
Linda turned away, and, with a bound, leapt into her saddle.
"No, brother!" she cried, "now that you are safe, I am satisfied. But, brother—I am still a Mormon!"
Ardine sprang forward, and grasped at the horse's reins, but the animal darted aside, and he missed his hold.
"Farewell! brother!" cried the infatuated girl, "may God bless you on your journey to the Eldorado! As for me—I return to the Holy City!" And she spurred her horse for the return.
"Then may a brother's curse and a brother's misery rest forever on your soul, and blight every hour of your life!" cried Ardine, in a tone of fearful rage.
The girl cast one look backward. The moon fell upon her blanched check, as she heard the curse, and then, as if prompted by desperation, she dashed away over the plain, and was soon out of sight!
CHAPTER IV.
A PROPHET'S VISION.
We will not follow the unhappy Ardine through his long and perilous march across the Desert, nor portray the many heart pangs he felt, as he thought of wandering still further from the home of his childhood and from those upon whom he now only lived to hurl his avenging wrath. Another scene demands our attention.
Let us enter this splendid mansion of brown stone, just fronting the Temple. It is not less gaudy and grand than some of those which adorn the Fifth Avenue in New-York, and is far more unique in its architectural designs. Let us enter the Home of the Prophet!
We will not now pass through the gorgeous drawing-rooms, furnished with Oriental magnificence, nor peer into the private apartments, fitted up, and adorned with sumptuous and voluptuous splendor. The room we enter is the library, or business apartment of the Prophet. He furniture consists of a few easy chairs, a couple of lounges or divans, with a centre-table, besides a book-case, con-taining the writings of Jos. Miller, Lives of the Elders, and his own MSS. The walls were ornamented with por traits of the prominent men among the Latter Day Saints and maps of every country on the globe. Such was the library of the Governor and Prophet of Utah.
Seated in one of the arm-chairs, near the window, intently engaged in reading a newspaper, which was evidently from the States, was a man of middle age, with a keen, black eye, and prominent features, a fore-head, narrow and high, and covered with a sparsity of hair.
"Curse the Administration!" he exclaimed, suddenly throwing down the paper, "but Brother Brigham will be a match for them!"
"For whom?" said a voice near by.
The man looked up, and beheld standing in the door-way another of about his own age, of a solemn but shrewd aspect, and an eye of keen, piercing brightness. His forehead was broader and more evenly developed, and his hair was beginning to be mingled with gray.
"Good evening. Brother Brigham, most worthy leader of our Church!" said the man reverently.
"Our welcome, Elder Pratt," said the Pro-member, "showing me, yesterday, the miniature of a beautiful girl, the sister of your last wife, Linda Ardine."
"Yes, she is truly a beautiful creature; I saw her once in New-York, where she resides with her aunt," replied the elder, rather earnestly.
"You remember, also, Brother Pratt, that, although I greatly admired Linda myself, yet I gave her up to you, at your request."
"I remember it well, and you gave me a jewel," replied the Elder, obsequiously.
"You remember, also, that at your request, I, three days ago. exiled her brother from the city, and had him hanged, for fear, having turned apostate, he might also influence his sister!"
"You were very kind," replied the Elder, in a tone of thankful humility.
Meanwhile, the keen eyes of the Prophet were fixed upon his satellite with a magnetic expression of subtle power. His face assumed a half-smiling appearance, and the frig-idity of his manners softened into urbanity.
"I had a vision, last night, Brother Pratt, in which this beautiful girl, with a pure soul, came to me, and the voice of the Lord said to me, 'Take her, Brigham, Ser-vant of the Most High! She is thy helpmate!' Elder, it is Heaven's decree that Leonora Ardine should be my—wife!"
The Elder paused for a moment, and then said, hesitat-ingly:
"I fear it will be difficult to accomplish, Brother Young, as the girl has a great antipathy against our faith."
"But she MUST be mine, Elder!" said the Prophet, in an emphatic, hissing tone.
The Elder again seemed perplexed for a moment, before he replied.
"Our agents in New-York might accomplish it," he said.
"There must be another agent," said Brigham, subtly.
"Who?"
"Your wife—her sister!"
"But how?"
"If I mistake not, you informed me that Linda and her brother had not been estranged from that sister, on ac-count of their adherence to our faith—they still corres-pond at intervals ?"
"Yes."
"The brother is dead. and cannot return to tell her any evil of our city. I would have Linda word her letters in glowing descriptions of our place and condition; the sumptuousness of our living, and the happiness we enjoy. Fire her ambition and curiosity with the enthusiasm and beauty of our religion, request her to attend the meetings of our brethren in the East, and offer her a friendly hospi-tality here. By these combined means, she will soon be in our power, and once in our power, my wife."
"I will use my influence with Linda, to induce her to do it," said the Elder, meekly.
"She MUST do it!" again exclaimed Brigham, in his peculiarly emphatic tone. "The Prophet wills it, and the Council of Twelve grant it."
"Be it so," replied the Elder, "I will see her at once."
"Tis well," said the Prophet, seating himself at the ta-ble. as the Elder took his leave.
Three days had passed since the events of the three first chapters had occurred, and Linda, the sealed wife of Parley Pratt, was still sad and dejected. Her brother's curse seemed to linger in her ears and haunt her heart. She felt a dark presentment that the current of her hith-erto peaceful life was about to change, and often gave her-self up to dark and moody reflections. She had hitherto been treated with the utmost kindness by the Elder, and all by whom she was surrounded. Her husband seemed to be proud of her beauty, and spent much of his time in her company, and the poor girl was happy in her infatua-tion. But now that her brother was gone, she felt lonely and sad, and was often given to despondency.
It was during one of these moods, in which the Elder found her in her private apatment, on returning from his visit to the Prophet. She rose to meet him, and, resting her hands on his shoulder, lifted her dark, sad eyes to his, as she said:
"Parley, why is it that you stay so long away from my side? The time was when you would not leave me for an hour, and now I am blessed when I see you once a day!"
"The cares of the church, my dear," began the Elder, in a soothing tone.
"Hold!" said Linda, interrupting him. "The church has no more cares now than when you first sealed me to your heart; but I fear, my dear Parley, that some other care engrosses your mind. You know that I never object to the privileges of those who join with me in calling you husband. I have never been jealous of any of my sisters—your other wives. But I fear, dear Parley, that some other beauty is stealing in upon your heart, which you have told me was all mine!"
"And so it is, my sweet," said the oily tongued Elder, embracing her; " but the political relations of our territo-ry with the States is becoming perplexing and trouble-some. The President is about to send a new Governor here, and the policy of our church is being violently dis-cussed in the East. I have just come from a long confer-ence with the Prophet upon this subject. But—there was something else spoken of. Linda. Which concerns you."
"What was it," asked Linda, curiously.
"I told you, last night, that I had shown the miniature of your sister, Leonore, to the Prophet, and how much he admired it."
"Well?"
"He said that she appeared to him, last night, in a dream, and the voice of the Lord commanded him to take her to himself."
"My sister!" exclaimed Linda, startled at the thought, and fixing a vacant stare in the Elder's face.
"Yes, it is a pity, my dear, that so sweet a girl should continue among heretics," said, the Elder, shrewdly.
"My sister!” repeated Linda, abstractedly.
"Remember. Linda, that the will of the Lord, as mani-fested through the Prophet, should be implicitly obeyed."
"And does Brigham want more victims of my family? Am not I left to bear his wrath, and is not that enough? Is he not satisfied with my brother's blood?"
"Your brother’s blood?” echoed the Elder, starting back in surprise; "your brother was not murdered: he was banished."
"Not so; do not try to deceive me, Parley, for you can-not. My brother was publicly banished, but the private in-structions of his escort were that he should be lynched—hanged! That was his fate!"
The Elder looked with astonishment upon the beautiful girl for the lapse of a few moments, as though he read the secret of her soul.
"How do you know this?" he asked, with a low, stern voice.
Linda hesitated for a moment, for fear of betraying her-self, and then said, evasively:
"Murderers sometimes have false lips!"
The Elder seemed satisfied, and went on to detail the in-structions given him by Brigham, as to the manner in which they were to gain possession of Leonore.
"And am I then to be the instrument of alluring my sister in the Prophet’s toils, and place her in the arms of her brother's murderer?" exclaimed Linda, in a voice of agony.
"Will she not be happier here than yonder among those mercenary heretics! Remember, my dearly be-loved, that there is another life to look to; should she die out of our faith, what would be her fate in the future world? The joy of this—the hope of the future—the dread hereafter—all rest upon her decision in this matter. Were she sick, would you not minister to her? Were she poor, and in distress, would you not give her your as-sistance? And now that she is in the bonds of sin and darkness, groveling amid the mercenary and heartless world, will you not stretch forth your hand to lead her into light and blessedness? You believe ours to be the true church—then her's is wrong, and she will be lost! The Lord has given her to Brigham; will you not do the work of the Lord?"
"I will! I will!" gasped the young enthusiast. Who stood with dilated eyes and lips apart listening to the eloquence of the fanatic, with all the abstraction of her soul.
"But a little time—give me time to think."
"You are a true saint, sweet love!" said the Elder drawing her tenderly to his breast, his eyes twinkling with gratification, " and are the dearest idol of my heart on earth!"
"Oh, is that so, Parley!" cried she, clasping his neck in a fervent embrace.
"It is my love! Do you not trust me?"
"I do! I do! But will it be ever thus?"
"While life remains," said he, fervently.
The young girl pressed her kisses on his sensual lips with the enthusiasm of a lost soul.
This startling romance will be continued, from where it leaves off here, in the New-York Mercury for this week, which will be ready at all the news depots early to-morrow morning. The Mercury is the largest and most beautiful four cent paper in the world, and pays more for literary talent than any other weekly journal published. Although the Mercury is sold by every newsvender in America, those who prefer, can have it mailed to any address, one year for $2, or six months for $1, payable in advance. No subscriptions received for less than six months. Secure the Mercury early to-morrow morning to avoid disappointment.